


standstill

by Ryah_Ignis



Series: Season 14 Codas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryah_Ignis/pseuds/Ryah_Ignis
Summary: It’s a parody of peacefulness.  Unlike the rest of his family, Cas’s eyes are closed, and his limbs aren’t splayed around him.  If it hadn’t been for the disarray of the room, for the blood on Cas’s shirt, he wouldn't have been able to tell something was wrong.“Cas, please.”Jack without his Grace, Mom, Sam, they’re all human.  They’re all breakable. But Cas--He stumbles into the room, falls to his knees beside the bed.Michael messes with Dean.  Meanwhile, Sam's not exactly holding it together.





	standstill

There’s blood on the bunker’s stairs.

No.  Nonononono.

Dean takes the stairs two steps at a time, his heart roaring in his ears.  Michael’s last words still ring in his head-- _ you kick me out, Dean, and you lose everything.   _

He comes across Jack first.  He’s slumped across the map room table, the gash in his head leaking sluggishly across Asia, soaking towards Europe.  Dean falls forward, like he’s in a dream Reaches for his pulse. 

No.

His legs feel like lead as he staggers towards the door, following another trail.  Mom, in the hallway, an angel blade still clutched in her fist. Her eyes are open, but the light behind them is dead.  Dean swallows back vomit.

“Sammy!”

The library looks like a tornado blew through it.  Dean closes his eyes, thinking of his brother’s painstaking filing, his card catalog.  He’s slumped across it. If he could, Dean knows his brother would be bitching about the stains.

Instead, he just lays there, unmoving.  This time, he throws up, hands on his knees, hands shaking.

Dean knows all too well what he’s going to see next.  But it doesn’t stop him from running towards his room.

* * *

He would have a nice smile, Maggie thinks.  Would, because she’s certainly never seen it.  Not a real one, anyway. But he’s got the hint of lines on his face that she thinks might just make one, so she keeps an eye out just in case it ever decides to make an appearance.

“What was it this time?” she asks as he takes a seat on the table with the world map on it.

His feet still touch the ground when he’s seated.  In that other world, that alone would have made Maggie keep her distance.  Anyone that looked like they could snap her like a twig was bad news. Here, though, she beckons him closer.

It’s one of many improvements.  Water pressure being the biggest one.

“Rugaru,” Sam says with a grimace.

He pulls one arm free of his jacket, but tugging on the other makes him hiss.  Maggie helps him out. The gash isn’t all that deep, but it’s long, and it looks like it stings.

Maggie makes a face. “Ew.”

She yanks her med kit across the table and opens it up.  It’s a far cry better than the one she’d had back home. It has bandages, for one.  For another, the bandages are  _ clean.   _ Maggie pulls one out and lays it down on the table. 

“Not quick enough on the uptake?”

Sam shakes his head. “Not quite quick enough.”

Maggie gets to work.  He flinches slightly when she dabs a little bit of iodine into the wound, but aside from the clench of his jaw, he doesn’t move away. 

“Lack of sleep, you think?”

She doesn’t know what’s come over her.  Usually, she doesn’t say a word. But a few nights ago, she wandered into the kitchen looking for a specific brand of chips that she had missed since the very first day of the apocalypse back home, and she had found Sam sitting in the exact same place as always, head down in the library, scrolling through his laptop.  Maggie had to wonder if he  _ ever  _ slept.

Sam clears his throat. “I’ve run on empty more times than I can count.  I’ll be fine.”

Maggie grabs some of the gauze and fixes it in place with the bandage. 

“Right.” Maggie’s hand drops from where it had been resting on his arm. “Well.  Look after yourself, Sam. Okay?”

Sam nods, smiles that tight, not-real smile that she’s gotten so used to. “Thanks Maggie.  Really.”

Maggie gives an awkward wave as he walks away.  He’s not quite holding it together, no matter what Sam Winchester says.

* * *

Dean closes his eyes and collapses against the doorframe.  It’s the only thing keeping him upright. 

“Cas?”

His voice cracks on the word.  It’s the first time he’s spoken since Michael took the wheel back in the church.  Cas doesn’t respond.

It’s a parody of peacefulness.  Unlike the rest of his family, Cas’s eyes are closed, and his limbs aren’t splayed around him.  If it hadn’t been for the disarray of the room, for the blood on Cas’s shirt, he wouldn't have been able to tell something was wrong.

“Cas, please.”

Jack without his Grace, Mom, Sam, they’re all human.  They’re all breakable. But Cas--

He stumbles into the room, falls to his knees beside the bed. 

* * *

His hands always tremble when he leaves the room.  It breaks Mary’s heart. Seeing Nick, she can’t imagine what it did to him.

“You don’t have to keep going in there,” Mary says.

She has to double her pace to follow Sam down the hallway.  He takes long strides, and when he’s not slowing down to listen to her--which happens more often than not these days--she can’t quite keep up with him without effort.

“Yeah, I do.”

Mary shakes her head. “One of us could do it.  You’ve got enough on your plate already.”

“I can take care of it!” Sam snaps.

His temper has been growing shorter and shorter.  Mary reaches for his arm, but he yanks it out of her reach.  She withdraws, hand falling to her side.

“All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t have to see his face every--”

Sam actually stops, turns on his heel.  Mary nearly runs into him. Only years of hunting instincts stops her cold in her tracks.

“I said I’ll handle it!”

His voice rings in the narrow hallway.  Mary crosses her arms across her chest, tilts her head back.  Sam has the good grace to look a little ashamed at his tone.

“This doesn’t look like handling to me, Sam.”

He closes his eyes, shoulders slumping forward.  Mary takes the opportunity to pull him into a hug.

“Sam.  Let us help you, please.”

He lets out a breath. “All right.”

It’s a tiny victory, but that’s all Mary can hope for.

* * *

He reaches blindly across the bed and takes one of Cas’s hands in his own.  It’s cold. He lets out a choked sob that never makes it quite past his throat.  When he’d gotten Cas back, he’d realized that losing him another time would break him.

But he’d never told Cas that.

“Hello, Dean.”

His heart leaps at the words, but it’s not Cas’s gravelly voice.  It’s his own.

Someone drops to a knee beside him.  A hand grips his chin and tilts it upright.  Dean meets his own eyes, his vision still blurry with tears.  Michael shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his stolen lips.

“Bring him back,” Dean says hoarsely, not even caring how it is that Michael still has his face. “Bring them all back.”

“I think you’ve had enough, don’t you?”

He snaps his fingers, and the bunker, Dean’s room, Cas’s body, it all melts away.  Instead, they’re surrounded by nothing but darkness.

Dean tries to pull away, but Michael holds him fast, the pageboy getup looking even more absurd when his eyes flash blue.

“If you hurt them--” Dean begins, struggling to wrench free again.

Michael smirks. “Oh, Dean.  Now’s not the time to be making threats.  Not if you want to stop this little nightmare of yours from becoming reality.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.  And I will if you try a stunt like that again.”

Dean closes his eyes, stops fighting. Michael’s smirk widens.  He releases Dean’s chin and steps back.

When he leaves, he leaves only darkness behind.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! As always, I love hearing from you all :D


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